


Splash of Color

by GhostySoldier



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: M/M, Self-Harm, Shonen Ai, Suicide, feels ahoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-21 21:46:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostySoldier/pseuds/GhostySoldier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After enduring the same torment of bullying for over 60 years, Sidney snaps and tries to end it all once again. His failed attempt on his own life lands him in the home of the Ghost Writer. The older ghost takes Sidney in and shelters him from the bullying of his monochrome realm of the ghost zone. As time passes, Sidney begins to heal inside and out, and as the bruises fade, a splash of color can be seen in the young ghost's eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sidney's Attempt

The laughs and the shouts and the barrages of insults echoed in the monochrome ghost's head as he flew through the ghost zone, tears flowing down his pale, freckled cheeks. His slightly oversized front teeth bit down on his lip, which was scabbed over and bleeding a little. The dark green of the ectoplasm on his lip was the only color on the boy.

Sidney Poindexter was by no means young in ghost years...he was over 60 in fact! But his death age was and forever would be 15. His life as a human had been stolen from him by the bullies and the depression. The boy had jumped from the roof of the school and died when he hit the ground. The worst part was, the bullies did not even care. A small memorial service was held and then the poor boy was practically forgotten.

However his respite in death did not last long. Soon he was trapped in the monochrome realm of his school...forced to endure the same torment he'd tried to escape. He supposed this was God's punishment for taking the coward's way out. Though he could not kill himself, he had started to hurt himself. The scars on his arms did not even faze the people who bullied him. They simply laughed and grabbed his arms just to see him wince in pain.

He was nothing to them.

Now, as he flew through the ghost zone, the desperation to escape had outweighed his fear of simply being faced with more pain and torment. He flew past a marble library-like place, ignoring it and landing on a small floating island. He sat on the rock for a moment, letting himself cry and gazing at his cuts. He then pulled a bottle of pills from his pocket.

He needed to escape.

Nobody would care anyway.

Sidney popped open the bottle and stared at the contents for a moment with dull grey eyes. Eyes that had lost their color and shine years ago. Most others from his realm gained color when they left it. Not Sidney. It seemed like he was stuck in black and white, like an old movie.

He took a shuddering breath and dumped the pills down his throat. It wasn't easy swallowing them without water, but he choked them down. He whimpered and lay on his stomach, closing his eyes and beginning the painful wait for death's release once more.

Ten minutes passed...nothing happened yet. He tried to wait more, but he needed something to do while he waited for death. He always had been a restless boy. He pushed himself weakly up to his knees-hey, he was weaker...that must mean it's working.

He allowed himself a bittersweet smile, knowing that soon enough it would all be over. His stomach and chest were starting to hurt. He took a shard of his mirror from his pocket and started to drag it along his arm. The green of the ectoplasm hurt his eyes a little, but he kept on cutting, watching it ooze out of him.

His vision was blurring, and he was starting to feel cold. He gasped and retched as his stomach made a feeble attempt to push the harmful substances out of his body. Even now, death was trying to elude him. He became too weak to fight it back and his stomach contents came up. It was too late, the pills were already absorbed into his bloodstream.

Tears streamed down his cheeks as the stomach acids burned his throat, which hurt enough already from being choked every day. Some of the bile dribbled down his chin, and a little foam came up. He coughed and choked, nearly falling into his own vomit. He managed to land on his side away from it, but that didn't stop the fact that his body was twitching and convulsing. The drugs were taking their desired effect.

He froze up when he heard the dull thump of books falling to the ground and a slightly gruff cry of, "Oh my God! Poindexter, wh...happened...you..."

Then everything faded to black.

* * *

Ghostwriter was normally a calm and collected ghost, minding his own business. He had been let out of the ghost prison on a merit of good behavior. He had just went out and got some more books for his library when he saw the dying teen ghost. Now he was panicking. His core pounded hard in his chest and he knelt by the boy, green eyes wide in horror. He cried out when the boy stopped twitching and fell limp, foam and vomit on his mouth and chin.

The ghost panicked even more, crying out and shaking Poindexter. "Poindexter! Wake up! Wake up, dammit, this isn't funny!" He trembled and looked around for someone who could help. Finding no one, Ghostwriter took it upon himself to lift the dying...or dead...ghost and flew into his home, the book forgotten.

He checked his core pulse...it was there...very faint, but his core was still functioning. He did not allow himself a sigh of relief. The boy was not out of the woods just because he was still alive, if barely so. He gently rubbed the boy's chest over his core, trying to activate the body's ecto-purifying mechanism to clean out the toxins. He heard and felt a strong _thump_ , indicating he had succeeded.

Ghostwriter sighed and rubbed his temples, before he got up and quickly got a warm blanket and a damp, cool cloth. He carefully cleaned the mess from the boy's face, noticing he had freckles on his pale cheeks. In Ghostwriter's opinion, the boy was quite cute, when he wasn't dying. He wrapped him up in a blanket and cradled him, carrying him up to his bedroom.

He lay him on the bed and kissed his forehead, pulling a stool up and sitting by him. He would monitor him carefully to make sure he didn't lose the ghost. He suppressed a yawn and groaned as his eyelids drooped. He would need a lot of coffee.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, I oughta warn you this is a pretty depressing story in the start. There will be more mentions of self-harm and suicide. Other than that, I hope you enjoy the story and the many feels it will bring.**

**Don't worry, Sidney's not going to die. Though he will be very sick for a while.**


	2. One Step Forward

Pain. Lots of pain. That was the first thing Sidney became aware of as he regained consciousness. His stomach hurt badly and his chest and arms ached. He coughed a little and whimpered since even breathing hurt. He slowly opened his dull grey eyes, noticing his surroundings were dark. He didn't have the strength to even attempt sitting up, so he just turned his head over a bit. He gasped in shock.

Ghostwriter was leaning back in a chair next to the bed he was laying in, his eyes closed and he seemed to be asleep. Sidney whimpered and tears welled up in his eyes. This ghost had stopped him from dying...when he wanted it to end! Why..? Did he just want him to keep suffering?

Sidney shuddered and weakly rolled over onto his side away from Ghostwriter, coughing up a small amount of ectoplasm. He heard a noise and froze up, eyes wide. Ghostwriter was waking up.

* * *

Ghostwriter's green eyes snapped open and he sat up with a gasp. _Shit, I fell asleep! What if Sidney passed while I was asleep? Oh, no..._

He quickly turned to check on the ghost, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw Sidney had moved a little. He got up and gently felt his core pulse, then smiled a little. It was beating at a steady rhythm now, though still a little weak. He was just glad the smaller ghost was alive.

He sighed. "I'm gonna get us some hot cocoa...if you need anything, just ask, if you're able."

There was no reply from the teenage ghost. Ghostwriter sighed softly and walked down to the kitchen, turning on the burner and heating up some water. He took out a package of mini-marshmallows and two of hot cocoa mix, and waited for the water to be heated.

Once it was all hot, he poured the water into two mugs and mixed in the packets of cocoa mix. He smiled a little and added the mini-marshmallows. He always waited until his melted so the cocoa was more creamy. He took the two mugs back upstairs and setting one on the bedside table. "Hey...I brought you some cocoa...if you need any help drinking it, just ask, okay?"

Sidney didn't reply, except for a quiet noise. Ghostwriter sighed and sat down, waiting for his marshmallows to melt in the cocoa. The silence was tense, and Ghostwriter could tell something was up. He took a sip of his cocoa and glanced at the boy.

The silence lasted for a while longer before a soft whisper reached his pointed ears. "...why..?"

Ghostwriter gasped, he hadn't expected to hear this. He looked at him, green eyes filled with concern. "Why what..?"

"Why didn't you let me die..? It's what I wanted..."

The black-haired author tensed up and nervously tightened his scarf. "I..I, uh...well...it wouldn't be right...suicide isn't the way out...Why would you even want that, anyhow?"

"Nobody would have missed me...I'm just their personal punching bag..."

The author looked away and bit his lip, his sharp teeth causing it to bleed. He sighed sadly. "Why didn't you ever ask for help? Find someone you could trust?"

He glanced back and saw that the boy was trembling and holding himself. He saddened and had to force back tears. The silence returned for a few minutes. Then Sidney spoke again. "Nobody would listen. The Christmas truce was my only respite from the bullying..."

Ouch. Ghostwriter remembered with a pang the year he broke the Christmas truce. He recalled the Lunch Lady had sat on the poor boy during the fight and he shuddered...he had ruined the one day Sidney was able to get away from the pain.

"I...I'm sorry..."

"Save it for someone who deserves it."

Ghostwriter tensed up and looked at him. He set his cocoa down and lightly touched his shoulder. The smaller ghost flinched and trembled, eyes wide. "D-d-don't hurt me, p-p-please!"

He shook his head slowly and sadly. "I won't...I promise."

He could feel Sidney go from tense to relaxed then back to tense again. "H...how can I trust you...?"

The ghostly author gently pulled Sidney into his arms, holding him to his chest. The boy could feel and hear the gentle, but strong, steady thumping of his core. The boy was soothed by the older ghost's corebeat, and he relaxed in his arms.

"I will protect you, Sidney...You can stay here as long as you like. You'll never have to go back to that horrible realm again. I'll keep you safe with all my afterlife. That is a promise. And I never break my promises."

Sidney gasped softly and looked up at the ghost, opening his mouth to say something then decided not to. He nuzzled into his chest and closed his eyes, deciding to take this offer. Anything to escape the horrible bullying. Anything.

Ghostwriter smiled, seeing that the ghost relaxed and seemed to trust him. He lightly stroked his hair, and watched over him as the smaller ghost fell asleep in his arms. He sighed and relaxed as well, still holding the boy close. Their cocoa was getting cold...oh well, he could just make some more later.

He hummed a little as he felt exhaustion begin to take him. He sighed and recited a line from his favorite poem, written by a good friend of his in his human life, before he drifted to sleep.

" _We are the Dead, Short days ago, We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie..._

_In Flanders Fields..."_

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, the core is like a ghost's heart if you're confused by that.**

**Enjoy the little hint to Ghostwriter's human past..and when he lived and how he died. Since we all have the general assumption that Sidney killed himself in canon-verse, I've decided to change the assumption that Ghostwriter died of work-related stress.**

**See ya guys later!**


	3. A Warm Meal and A Hot Bath

Though there was no sunrise or sunset in the ghost zone, Ghostwriter seemed to respond to the coming of day in the human world when he stirred. He could still feel that weight in his arms, telling him Sidney was still there, and probably still asleep. He sighed, he would let the poor kid sleep. In that monochrome school he resided in, he probably never got the chance to sleep, let alone rest.

It sickened him. Ghostwriter's eyes opened and glowed a little brighter and he held Sidney closer. He growled a little at the very thought of those bullies. He quickly calmed himself and sighed, looking down at the ghost in his arms. Sidney was still very pale even for his monochrome form, and he was more transparent than normal.

The stronger a ghost was, the less transparent they were. Sidney had always been more transparent than the other ghosts, even the Box Ghost who did have some transparency to him. Now Sidney was so see-through Ghostwriter could barely see him. He knew Sidney needed to gain some energy and fast.

He lay the weak and ill boy back in the bed, watching him for a moment before he went downstairs. He took some of the apples he had and mushed them into a pulp, then he threw it in a pot with some cinnamon and a little sugar, making some homemade applesauce. It had some nutrition and would be easy for the boy to eat in his weakened state, so Ghostwriter figured it was the best option. He also poured a glass of milk before he went back to his room.

Sidney was still fast asleep, but he was shivering. Ghostwriter paused with the bowl of applesauce in his hands and watched, concerned. Sidney whimpered in his sleep, shifting around and trembling. He seemed to be murmuring things like "no", "stop" and "it hurts". The taller ghost felt a pang in his chest again, feeling so bad for the other ghost.

He set the mushy meal down with the milk and leaned over Sidney, touching his cheek and stroking his hair. He hummed a little to soothe him, to a mournful familiar tune he knew all too well. Soon the whimpers, quiet pleas and shivers subsided, the boy's night terrors seeming to be vanquished. It wasn't long before those sorrowful grey eyes opened and he whispered, "It's time to eat, Sidney.."

Ghostwriter sighed and sat by him, gently propping him up on the pillows in a sitting position, not wanting him to choke on his food. He took a small spoonful of applesauce and put it to the boy's lips. Sidney hesitated before he took the spoon in his mouth, swallowing the applesauce and making a soft noise. It felt good to have some warm food in his cold body.

He became less transparent as he ate his mushy, warm breakfast, being fed by the older ghost. Sidney finished the applesauce before too long and gazed eagerly at the milk, and Ghostwriter helped him drink it. He smiled a little seeing a faint glimmer in the young ghost's eyes. Then he realized something.

"I should get you out of those clothes and wash them...and help you wash up too. Don't worry, I have some spare clothes about your size. They shrunk in the wash and I figured if I ever did have guests..might do good to have spare clothes for them."

Sidney was quiet for a while as though thinking it over, then he nodded. "..yeah...I probably still smell like my own sick..."

He started to pull the blankets off and try to get up, but Ghostwriter stopped him. "Sidney, you're not recovered enough to be walking around. Let alone be left unsupervised with objects you could potentially use to harm or kill yourself with..."

Sidney flinched and Ghostwriter sighed. "I'm sorry...I'll help you." He gently untied Sidney's bowtie and set it on the bedside table, before he lifted him in his arms, carrying him to the bathroom. He drew a warm bubble bath and undressed the boy, respectfully not looking at his private parts. He sent the clothes down the laundry chute and waited.

Sidney bit his lip and chewed on it a little, rubbing his arms nervously. He had a feeling Ghostwriter knew about the cuts already, but hoped he wouldn't ask. He looked around the room, eying the razors Ghostwriter had. Of course, the writer noticed and quickly stowed the razors away. Sidney sighed, looking away. He wasn't sure if the other wanted to start a conversation, but he wasn't sure what they'd even talk about. 'So you wanna kill yourself. Tell me about that.' wasn't exactly a good conversation starter, after all.

The small, underweight ghost closed his lifeless grey eyes and bowed his head, his black hair falling into his face. He took off his glasses and set them aside, reminding himself to replace the tape later. Soon the bath was ready, and Ghostwriter set Sidney in the tub, handing him a sponge and carefully monitoring him. Sidney washed himself, getting the smell of vomit and dried ectoplasm off his body. He was hesitant to wash his cuts, but he did, wincing softly. It hurt badly when the soap got into the cuts, but Ghostwriter assured, "It means its doing its job, cleaning the wounds...Be glad it's not peroxide."

Sidney did give him that. He sighed and he got to his hair, Ghostwriter stopping him as he reached for the shampoo. "I'll take care of that, Sidney. Don't strain your arms."

The ghost nodded and did as told, staring at the bubbles in the water, watching them pop slowly. Ghostwriter lathered the shampoo into his dirty, greasy black hair, frowning a little. For hair so neatly combed, it was very dirty. He assumed the bullies rarely ever gave him a chance to bathe. His suspicions were confirmed when he rinsed out his hair, the water turning a mucky brown color.

He grimaced and got Sidney out of the dirty water. He figured Sidney's body was kept clean by splashing sink water on himself and using the school bathrooms to clean himself. He took a warm, fleecy towel and wrapped Sidney in it, gently rubbing his body with it to dry him off. Sidney felt it tickled and he let out a quiet little giggle.

Ghostwriter smiled. That laugh was adorable! He wrapped the towel around him to keep the boy warm as he carried him back to the bedroom, setting him on the bed. He went over to his closet and rummaged around to find the shrunken clothed. He let out a cry of triumph when he pulled the Sidney-sized clothes from the closet, grinning. He went over to him, and helped him get dressed.

The clothes were soft, warm and comfy, and they fit Sidney perfectly when he put them on. The boy smiled a little and closed his eyes. "Thank you.." he whispered, taking Ghostwriter by surprise.

"Um...you're welcome..?"

Sidney looked up at him. "For..for taking me in. You..you really meant that, right..? That I could stay here?"

Ghostwriter blinked, then he smiled and nodded. "Of course I meant it. I can't very well let you go back to that horrible environment, can I? It wouldn't be right."

He gasped in shock when the boy wrapped his thin arms around him, nuzzling into him. He had to fight to keep the growing blush on his cheeks hidden. He could feel the nerdy ghost was relaxed, so he just let him hug him. It was a rather pleasant surprise. He smiled a soft smile, and stroked the boy's now silky black hair. "I'll never let anyone hurt you...A promise is a promise."

Sidney nodded and sighed softly. "I know...I..I promise I won't try to kill myself...You made a big promise to me..so it's only fair I make one to you."

The author's eyes widened...that was a big promise that the depressed and bullied ghost was making. He got a little worried. "Are you sure you'll be able to keep that promise..? You still have a long way to go in recovery..."

He just nodded again. "I'd be a real square if you were the only one having to keep a promise. Besides...I guess I owe you for making sure I wasn't gone permanent-like."

Ghostwriter suppressed a chuckle from the boy's 50s slang. He found it rather endearing. He sat with him on the bed and let the tired ghost continue to hug him and soon fall asleep on him. He rubbed his back and watched over him. "It was only the right thing to do." he murmured and smiled.

* * *

**A/N: Sidney will be rather tired all the time due to the suicide attempt, but he will recover. In the next chapter, Ghostwriter will take Sidney on a trip to the library of the human world to cheer him up! Of course, you have to expect Danny to be there if a ghost is near.** **I predict Ghostwriter will have to make good on his promise to protect Sidney, even if it means a trip to Thermos-town.**


	4. Day on the Town

It was morning now. Ghostwriter smiled softly as he gently nudged Sidney awake. "Wakey wakey, Sidney...we have places to go today."

The ghost teen groaned a little and whimpered, clinging to the blankets. "Noooo....I don't wanna..."

Ghostwriter sighed and folded his arms. "We're going out for breakfast, Sidney..and then we'll go to the library." He looked at the younger ghost to see if it had an effect. It did. Sidney shot up, eyes shining. "Library? As in books?! Yes!" he jumped out of bed and began to get ready for the day, changing into his now-clean clothes and combing his hair.

The writer chuckled softly, glad to see him so happy. He got ready himself, making sure his scarf was on just right. He held Sidney's hand and smiled. "Alright, are you ready to go?" The boy nodded and smiled, before holding onto his arm. Ghostwriter smiled and lead him along, flying to the Fenton portal and quickly flying through the house, turning them both invisible as they passed Danny eating breakfast. He bit back a swear as he noticed Danny's ghost sense go off, but they were out of the house before they could be caught. He flew through the town, looking for a good place to get breakfast. He saw a cafe and nodded.

He swooped down, and noticed Sidney was looking around in awe. He guessed the human world would be really different to him, considering he hadn't really been there since he died. Sidney walked into the cafe behind him and let out a soft squeak of excitement. The smell of coffee and hot cocoa and cinnamon buns among other things was so wonderful to him.

Ghostwriter chuckled and led him to a seat. Sidney sat down when the chair was offered to him, and he waited while Ghostwriter went up to the counter and ordered some food and coffee. Sidney examined the surface of the table, his eyes growing distant, noting all the coffee stains and scratches on the table..it had seen a lot. So had he. He shuddered, a brief memory of his human life flooding to the surface.

* * *

_"Hey, look, it's Poindexter! Let's whale on him!"_

_Sidney whimpered and held his books closer to his chest like a shield, trying to run through the halls to avoid the torment that was sure to come. He yelped when he felt the rough hand of a bully on his shoulder, pulling him back and turning him around. He trembled and looked up at his tormentor, to be met with a fist. He fell back, dropping his books and crying out. He felt something hot and wet dribble out of his nose. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his nose, gasping when he saw the blood on it.  
_

_He quivered in fear, and looked up as the shadow of a bully fell over him. He was lifted up by the collar of his shirt and punched so hard he went flying. He hit the wall with a yell of pain, slumping to the floor and struggling to his feet. Tears streamed down his bruised cheeks as he looked at his tormentor, and he asked shakily, "Why do you do this to me...? I never did anything to you..."  
_

_The bully smirked cruelly and kicked him in the stomach, knocking him down and placing his boot on his chest. Sidney coughed and wheezed, squirming underneath him. He leaned in with that heartless smirk and hissed into his ear, "Survival of the fittest, Poindexter. There is no value to wits, just to strength. Culling the herd..that's what you dweebs call it, right?"_

_Sidney struggled and groaned, finding it hard to breathe under the weight of the boot, and its owner. "Please...please, I don't deserve this...please stop..." he begged, his eyes full of pain and tears.  
_

_He squeaked when he felt the heel of the boot digging into his chest, causing him more pain. The bully sneered and glared down at him. "You're pathetic. You're the weakest nerd I've ever seen. I don't see why you're even still alive. You're gonna die, Poindexter, sooner or later. And nobody will miss you."  
_

_With that, the bully left, leaving the poor boy to think about what he'd said and cry. It was only a week later his body lay in the courtyard after jumping from the roof, as shocked lunchgoers stared at his limp body. The bully was right. After a small funeral and memorial service, Sidney Poindexter was forgotten. His torment only continued after death.  
_

* * *

..............

"Sidney?"

He gasped and jolted back to reality, looking up at him. "Gh-ghostwriter..! Ah..I'm sorry, I..I was just thinking...."

The black-haired author looked worried, his green eyes showing this more than any other part of him. On the table was a cup of mocha coffee for the boy, a latte for Ghostwriter, and two cinnamon buns for breakfast each. Sidney smiled slightly, looking at the writer reassuringly. "I'm fine...I promise...."

He pulled his plate of cinnamon buns closer, and started to eat, savoring the sweet sticky frosting and cinnamon on the warm bun. He took a few sips of the coffee, growing less transparent as he ate. He still wasn't as solid as Ghostwriter, but at least it didn't seem like he would disappear at any moment. He finished the yummy breakfast and leaned back in the chair. "That sure was dee-lish! Don't you agree?"

Ghostwriter smiled softly and nodded, taking a napkin and gently wiping frosting from Sidney's lips. He gasped softly and looked at him, blushing. Ghostwriter seemed to realize the implications and he glanced away. "Ah...well...shall we head to the library?"

Sidney nodded and got up, floating. The pair left a tip on the table and they flew out, heading toward the library. On the way there, they flew over the Nasty Burger, where Danny and his friends were just leaving. Danny shuddered and his ghost sense went off again. He looked around and saw the ghosts flying away. Ducking behind a dumpster he transformed into his ghost form and flew after them.

Ghostwriter landed in the library with Sidney at his side, and he looked around. "Well...feel free to look around and check out whatever books you like. Stay safe, okay?" He smiled, and when the younger ghost nodded, he looked satisfied.

Sidney floated over to the children's section and crouched in the H section, the books organized by authors of course, and looked for comics made by a certain Belgian cartoonist. Ghostwriter smiled and floated over to a yearbook archive, looking for yearbooks from the 50s. Before he could even find anything, however, he was met by a punch in the face.

"Gah!!" Ghostwriter flew back into a shelf, several books falling on him and he winced. He glared in the direction the punch came from, not looking pleased to find Danny Phantom. Danny glared at him, fists clenched. "What are you doing here, Ghostwriter?" he growled.

The writer's eyes briefly flashed red. "Why is it any of your business, child? Perhaps there was a book I do not possess here! Do you ever mind your own business?"

The halfa growled lowly, charging up an ecto blast. "I got this one, Danny!" came a shout from Tucker, who was about to go at Sidney with the Fenton Thermos. Ghostwriter's eyes widened and he formed his legs into a spectral tail. "No, you don't!" he shouted and lunged forward, getting between Sidney and Tucker.

Sidney gasped as he turned and saw Ghostwriter caught in the thermos's vacuum, sucking him in. Ghostwriter had promised to protect him, and protect him he did. He whimpered softly as Tucker slammed the lid on the thermos, trapping the writer inside. His grey eyes were filled with fear, clutching the books he'd selected close like a shield, trembling.

Danny flew over, charging another ecto blast and aiming at him. Sidney cringed and shrank back against the shelf, trembling. "No....please...STOP!" he cried, tears filling his eyes. He yelped as the blast was fired at his feet, then Danny grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pinning him against the wall. "You've got 10 seconds before I blast you out of here, Poindexter."

Sidney trembled and cried. "We're just here to look at books, and then we were going to leave without any trouble! Please just let us go!"

Danny growled and charge up an ecto-blast in his fist, drawing it back when he saw the scars on the boy's arms. He froze and dropped him, staring at him. "You...you cut...?" he stared in horror.

The monochrome ghost whimpered and bowed his head, holding his arms against his chest. His silence was all the answer Danny needed. Danny backed off and looked briefly at Tucker, who had gone very quiet. He sighed. "So...Ghostwriter was caring for you?"

Sidney sniffled and nodded. "P-please..p-please l-let h-him out, h-he's th-the only one I h-have that ever cared!" he begged, tears falling down his cheeks.

Danny hesitated but then nodded slowly. "Alright...let him out of the thermos, Tuck." Tucker was silent as he complied, before putting the thermos away and rubbing his arm lightly. Ghostwriter growled lowly and got between Danny and Sidney, eyes briefly glowing red. Danny backed off.

"I suggest you leave now, Phantom. Before you make Sidney more upset." he growled, pulling the smaller ghost close in his arms. Sidney whimpered and buried his face into his chest. Danny sighed, going back to his human form. "A..alright. Come on, Tucker..." He walked out.

Tucker started to follow, then paused, looking at Sidney. "Dude..I..I just have to say..I sorta know how you feel.....just stick to him...if he really is the one who cares, you'll be able to cope soon." he nodded and left behind Danny.

Ghostwriter cradled the trembling boy close, stroking his hair. "Oh, Sidney...Shall we go home now..?" He was met with a whimper and a nod, and Sidney curled up in Ghostwriter's arms.

The writer flew up and out, heading back to the Fenton Portal, into the Ghost Zone and back to his home. On the way, he passed the ghostly replica of Casper High. Sidney clung tighter to him as they passed it, and tried to turn himself invisible, failing. He wasn't yet strong enough. Ghostwriter saddened, seeing that the bright and cheery boy from this morning was no longer there. Sidney had fallen back into the deeper depression.

One step forward, two steps back.


End file.
